Conversations
by IBuriedTheLede
Summary: LBD Universe. Lizzie doesn't have to record every conversation. Nor do the videos fully capture everything going on in her world. So what are these characters saying to each other when the camera isn't around? Various bits and pieces of conversation, starting in July and going through the Pemberley arc.
1. Part I

**Hello, lovely readers! Originally, each of these were various ideas that cropped up as potential fics. But after having all of them sit on my hard drive for far too long, I decided to wrap them all together as a filling-in-the-details conversations. Part 1 is pre-Pemberley; part 2 covers the Pemberley arc.**

* * *

**July**

William sits on his bed at Netherfield, freshly showered and dressed after a long afternoon bike ride. He's been riding a lot this summer in what he's now come to realize is a vain effort to clear his mind. But for whatever reason, his thoughts seem bent on remaining permanently clouded and his heart is set on completely overwhelming his judgment. This seemingly unending wave of feelings and emotion is most unwelcome, and none of the many miles he's pedaled will make them fade. If anything, the solitary rides have given him more opportunity to consider potential conversation openers, which is what leads to him calling his sister to talk about Top 40 radio.

Gigi finally stops laughing long enough to speak. "William. Oh my gosh. _How_ can you have not heard that song? It's _everywhere_."

"My car radio is always set to either NPR or classical, you know that."

He knows she does. He says that classical calms him down when traffic is horrendous on the unforgiving San Francisco hills. But part of him listens to classical because their mother and father listened to classical, and it soothes him to know that there's a part of them with him when he goes to work every day.

However, the hit of the summer is decidedly _not _classical, which is why he's turned to his sister for help.

"Hasn't someone at work at least shown you a cover of it? They're all over YouTube."

"No."

"Well just go type in 'Call Me Maybe' and you'll see it. It's so great. They even did a video where the Olympic swim team danced around to it! They looked like they were having so much fun."

William pauses before he speaks, weighing his options of how to proceed. Swimming is a tough subject for both of them these days, no matter how often Gigi will rattle on about how excited she is for the Olympics and to see Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte kick ass. Not to mention that the thought of a dancing Olympic swim team just brings other dances to mind — other dances that he is increasingly annoyed with himself for enjoying and remembering in vivid detail.

"So it's really good for dancing, huh?" He cringes at his awkward turn of phrase.

Gigi laughs. "Yes, it's popular and really good for dancing."

* * *

William is just finishing hooking up the final wire on the Lees' sound system when Caroline stomps in, collapses on a nearby chair and heaves a long, drawn-out sigh. William is glad his face is hidden by the stereo box; it's much easier to allow his disdain for her theatrics to show when she's not staring at him.

"Darcy," she says in a rather annoyed way. "_What _on earth does Bing see in that girl? Honestly. His little infatuation has become seriously problematic."

William tucks the wires into the back of the stereo box, then reaches down for the final plastic piece he needs to screw in place. Caroline's irritation is palpable, however, and William knows that speaking is necessary.

"I think he's infatuated," he says slowly, attempting to hide his own frustration — with Caroline, with himself, with all of it. This entire summer has been an endless series of vexations and exasperations, mostly centered around the auburn-haired Bennet sisters, one of which Bing can't stop babbling about and the other which Darcy cannot seem to get out of his head. He frowns, wishing yet again that he could clear his mind of Lizzie Bennet once and for all.

"Infatuations are pointless," Caroline says superciliously. "You have to tell Bing that. He's due back at school in the fall, and then what? He's going to come back here on the weekends and hang out with these people? William, they listen to Top 40 radio _unironically._"

"I know," he says shortly, stepping down off the stepstool he used to install the speakers. He wonders for a moment if Caroline is going to thank him for making the effort to put them in, then brushes the thought aside. Caroline isn't much for saying 'thank you.'

"I even heard Lizzie singing along to the local pop station when she was making dinner the other night," Caroline says with great hauteur. Darcy's heartbeat picks up a bit, completely involuntarily. He rather hates himself for it.

"Which song?" he blurts out before he can stop himself. Thankfully, he's able to keep the color from rising in his cheeks as Caroline turns to stare.

"I don't know, Darcy. Like I listen to that kind of trash. It was just some silly pop number. But she must like it, or she wouldn't have known the words.

"Right," he says, before leaving the room to return the screwdriver to its proper place.

* * *

**December**

Gigi pads into his study and curls up in the chair next to his desk. Her socks have tiny snowmen on them. William has been working all day, throwing himself into end-of-year reports and laying the groundwork for the Domino launch with a vigor he hasn't displayed since their parents died.

She calls it his coping mechanism. William would rather not label it, since it brings to mind the thing about which he has to cope. He looks up from his computer to study Gigi's face, growing immediately concerned about the purple rings under her eyes.

"Gigi—"

"You know, something funny has happened," she says, looking down at her feet. He follows her line of sight. She wiggles her toes, making the snowmen dance.

He tries, and fails, to smile.

"What's that?" he asks quietly.

"I've kind of started liking her."

Her toes stop dancing. William closes his eyes as pain shoots through his chest.

"It's strange because I went into this totally prepared to hate her, and hate her videos, and hate all of it. But now that I've watched them…" Gigi pauses. She puts her hand over William's. "I started liking them. I started liking_ her_."

William turns his wrist, squeezing Gigi's hand and feeling comforted by the nearness of his sister. He opens his eyes. She is looking at him with such sadness that he attempts to crack a smile.

"I know exactly what you mean," he says.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**


	2. Part II

**Hello again! The bulk of these conversations happen in January during Lizzie's brief — but memorable — time at Pemberley Digital.**

* * *

**January**

Lizzie rolls over onto her back, pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder. It's strange to be making herself comfortable in this new apartment, but the uncomfortableness of the previous afternoon has exceeded any misgivings she had about the appropriateness of house sitting.

"Jane, he was just _there_. We must have stared at each other for a good ten seconds. It was _so _awkward."

"What did he say?" Jane's voice is soothing over the phone, even if she is eight hours away in Los Angeles. Lizzie wishes she could see her sister over Skype, but her damn phone is malfunctioning again.

"He was…" Lizzie pauses, takes a breath. Jane can always tell when Lizzie is fudging the truth, even if she doesn't call her out on it. "He was actually really nice. He offered me a ride to dinner and said to let him know if I needed anything. And I think he really meant it."

"Of course he meant it," Jane says. "Darcy isn't the kind of person who says something without really meaning it."

"Well, exactly!" Lizzie exclaims, rolling over again and staring at the ceiling in frustration. "That's exactly it. He _doesn't _say something without really meaning it."

"So?"

"_So _am I just supposed to ignore the fact that he said all those terrible things about me? About all of us?" Lizzie huffs a breath out. This is the crux of her confusion, and it's immensely bothersome to her that she's even confused at all. She is used to considering Darcy as a robot, an unfeeling sociopath. Thinking that she might have to consider him as anything else — anything more, well, _whole _— is completely frustrating.

Thinking that he might even be a little bit attractive just makes it even worse.

Jane clears her throat the way she usually does when she's about to say something she know Lizzie won't like. "Lizzie, you yourself said that you were a little harsh on Darcy."

"So?"

"_So_, maybe Darcy was a little harsh on us too. Maybe he isn't the only one whose opinion has changed in the past few months."

"I never said my opinion changed —"

"All I'm saying is, maybe give him the benefit of the doubt, ok?"

Jane never interrupts. Lizzie isn't sure whether she should smile that New Jane is still going strong or frown because New Jane is telling Lizzie things she doesn't want to hear. Her mouth ends up somewhere in a straight line, which she again directs at the ceiling.

"New Jane interrupts. Old Jane never interrupted."

"Old Jane was too busy thinking of ways not to step on people's toes. New Jane realizes that it's ok to step on your sister's toes sometimes."

"Just as long as I'm not wearing any fabulous heels, right?" Lizzie smiles into the phone. She misses her sister.

"I doubt you'll be wearing many pairs of killer heels in San Francisco. Not with those hills."

"Yeah, they can be quite unforgiving," Lizzie says, without even thinking. She feels blood rush to her face. _What?_

If Jane recognizes the now-colloquial phrase, she doesn't let on. "Ok, I need to go make dinner. I love you, Lizzie."

"I love you too, Jane. I miss you."

"I miss you too. Have a good night. And Lizzie?"

"Hmm?"

"Cut Darcy some slack. He may end up surprising you."

"That's doubtful," Lizzie says, with more conviction than she feels.

"Good night."

"Bye."

* * *

William has just come down the stairs for breakfast when he sees them sitting atop his briefcase.

"Gigi?" he asks, a suspicious edge to his voice. "Do you happen to know how this particular cap and bow tie ended up on my briefcase this morning?"

Gigi sets her tennis bag down and smiles wickedly. "I think they wanted to be freed from the constraints of your closet and would find a much more comfortable home at Pemberley."

He gives her a look that's half amused and half frustrated. "And my work desk is so much less constraining than my personal closet at home."

"You've got those big windows at work! They just want to see a little bit of the city, William," she says. Sometimes her silly moods irritate him, but she pushes through anyway. It's good for him to be around some silliness sometimes. It's not as if he'd ever willingly seek it out himself.

And there is nothing sillier than Lizzie Bennet's costume theater, particularly that big blue hat and drawling Southern accent. She can just picture the gifs: William Darcy in the flesh in a newsboy cap and bow tie. Gigi thinks Lizzie's fans would die of glee.

The look William is giving her quite obviously reveals that he clearly knows what she's up to. Abandoning all pretense, Gigi exclaims, "You never know when a little costume theater might be in order. Just think — you could play yourself!"

William smiles. It's a little sad, and a little too fleeting, but it's there. "I don't know if I'll ever get that chance, but if I do I shall rest assured knowing that I came prepared."

Stepping over her tennis gear, Gigi walks over to her brother, pushes up on her tiptoes, and kisses him on the cheek. "I just want things to be well-ordered for you."

He quirks an eyebrow, grabs his briefcase and costume theater gear, kisses her cheek and is out the door.

"Say hi to Lizzie for me!" she calls out, her grin returning as she hauls her tennis bag over her shoulder and prepares to leave herself.

* * *

"Jane," Lizzie pants into the phone as she treads up one particularly steep climb, still puzzled as images of that afternoon's costume theater pop into her head. "Jane, guess what."

"What?"

"He did it."

"Who did what?"

"Darcy," Lizzie says, and she feels her lips curve upward into an involuntary smile, thinking of a certain newsie hat and bow tie. "He surprised me."

Jane laughs, and Lizzie's heart feels much lighter than it has in a while.

"I hate to say it," Jane says. Lizzie has the feeling that New Jane is going to say it anyway. "But I told you."

* * *

Lizzie and Gigi are out to lunch, and Lizzie waits until the server has brought them their drinks before she blurts out her question.

"Why don't you hate me?"

Lizzie has been dying to ask Gigi this ever since she showed up as a tour guide that first day at Pemberley Digital, but had been unable to determine the most polite way to phrase it. But as her recent interaction with William Darcy has shown, sometimes the best way to get an honest answer was to ask a straightforward question.

Gigi put her fork down, frowning. "I would never dare hate you."

Lizzie isn't sure if this is a Darcy family saying or just a callback to the fact that Gigi has watched every single one of her videos, and continues to watch them today.

"But after everything I've said about your brother —"

"I don't care about that."

This time it's Lizzie's turn to frown. Twice in a row is too purposeful to be coincidental, right?

"But Gigi —"

"Would I have preferred you didn't have dozens of videos calling my brother names and talking about how much you hate him? Yes." Gigi spits this out quickly, and Lizzie hangs her head until she feels Gigi's hand on her shoulder. "But that's not what's important, Lizzie."

"Important? I defamed your brother over and over again, using his first and last name, and it's out there on the Internet for anyone and everyone to see —"

"You kept my secret." It was quiet, but Gigi said it, and Lizzie's sentence comes to an abrupt halt. She looks at Gigi, who turns to face her with eyes suddenly full of sadness, bitterness and regret. "You could have told everyone on the Internet about me and George, but you didn't. You could have told Caroline or Charlotte or Jane or anyone else, but you didn't. And that's what's important."

Lizzie is stunned. She wonders if another Darcy family trait is the ability to render anyone speechless, or if it's just something that works on her in particular.

"I would never," she croaks out eventually. "It wasn't my secret to tell."

Gigi shrugs. "Exactly. And that matters more to me than you describing in full detail just how uncomfortable your first few months knowing my brother were."

"But the way I talked about him —"

"It was _your _diary, Lizzie. He was being a pompous, arrogant ass, and you justifiably called him out on it. But he's changed, and you've changed, and I hope you can see that."

Luckily, the waiter shows up with their lunch orders, and Lizzie has something else to focus on.

* * *

William unexpectedly shows up at her door and Gigi pulls her earbuds away

"What's up?"

Distress radiates from him, and Gigi is immediately concerned. Before she can get up to ask what's wrong, however, he blurts out a question.

"Did you really mean what you said in that last video? That nobody ever needed you?" There is pain in his voice that Gigi hasn't heard for a long, long time, not since after their parents died. She is shocked to see that there are tears in his eyes.

"William…" She doesn't want to cause him more pain, but it had been the truth. "You had work. You had responsibilities. I needed you to take care of me but you didn't really —"

"Of _course _I needed you!" he exclaims with incredible emotion, taking Gigi aback. "I always did. You're the only family I have, Gigi. We're all each other have. We've got to stick together. Of course I need you."

It's nearly verbatim what he said after their parents' funeral, and Gigi feels tears in her eyes as well. She hauls herself off her bed and reaches out to hug her brother. They embrace silently for a moment, and Gigi feels him breathe out a long sigh.

"Well, we still have Aunt Catherine, at any rate," she says, laughing a little, and even William cracks a small smile.

"I love you so much," he says, his voice still thick. "I need you. Don't ever question that."

"I know that now," she says, sniffling. "I promise."

* * *

**February**

"_Here's looking at you, kid_," Rick says to Ilsa, and Gigi feels herself tear up. _Casablanca _has always been her go-to movie when she's feeling down, but the significance of this particular viewing isn't lost on her.

Nor, apparently, is it lost on her Twitter followers. "He loves her enough to put her on a plane to fly away from him," one Tweet reads. Gigi wipes away a tear that's somehow made its way onto her cheek, and presses "Favorite."

The onscreen plane flies away as she picks up the phone to dial her brother. It's late, but she knows he'll be up.

The connection clicks on, but William is silent.

"I'm sorry I called you using the Domino demo," she says, contrite. She knows it was unprofessional, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"I really wish you hadn't done that," he says. He sounds so tired.

"I know. I'm sorry. But—" Gigi pauses to wipe away a tear. "I have to do something."

"No, you don't," he says firmly. "Gigi, I — I don't want your name attached to this."

"Why not?" she asks, frustrated.

"Because it's a pretty nasty setup, and if anyone is going to be tarnished by it, I want it to be me." William says this with a finality and weariness that is both surprising and disappointing to her.

"What do you mean, a nasty setup?"

"It's a sex tape, Gigi, do you really want the gory details?" He speaks bluntly, with a sharpness he usually reserves for high-pressure boardrooms and never for her. Gigi decides she can serve up some sharpness right back.

"I just want to know how I can help, William."

"You can help by not getting involved. Honestly. It's —" William sighs, long and world-weary, and Gigi's heart aches. "It's for the best. Please trust me on this."

She nods, then realizes he can't see her. "Ok," she says, in a small voice. "William, I am sorry. I just —" she pauses. "I just can't stand the thought of him ruining someone else's life."

"Me either."

"And everything with you and Lizzie was going so well —"

"Gigi —"

"And now their whole family is drawn into a mess they don't deserve, all because of _him_ —"

"Gigi —"

"And I just can't stand sitting around while I think I could be out there _doing _something!" Gigi says vehemently.

"You can help by making sure everything runs smoothly with Domino," he says, in a much calmer voice. This is the one he reserves for soothing her when she's angry or upset. "Really. I am doing all I can here, but it's a job that has to be done alone."

"Can you at least tell me where you are?"

"A hotel in between Van Nuys and Burbank. It's outside L.A. — "

"I know where Burbank is, William."

"It's where they registered their IP address. I'm trying to track down the original creator, but it's proving… difficult."

Gigi sighs, wishing she could do something, anything. "You promise you'll let me know if I can help in any way?"

"You can keep making demo videos, preferably ones that don't involve calling me," he says, sounding exhausted. "The timing of this couldn't have been worse. I wanted to be there for the launch —"

"Leave it to me," Gigi says. It may be small, but this is one thing she knows she can do. "And William? Get some sleep. Please. You'll be no help to anyone if you're a walking zombie."

"Maybe later," he says, a hard edge to his voice. "I've got work to do."

* * *

**Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think in the reviews.**


	3. Part III

**Hello! Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing and following. It has been so great to hear from all of you!**

**The next three conversations happen in February after Lizzie has left Pemberley Digital.**

* * *

A long, mournful, plaintive moan draws Lizzie up the stairs, where she finds Lydia's door closed and almost assuredly locked. She tries the doorknob just in case, but as she suspected, it doesn't budge. Lizzie shifts her weight back and forth, unsure and guilty, as she tentatively knocks on the door. She hears a sob, and her heart aches for her baby sister. Once again, Lizzie wonders how everything has gone so horribly, awfully, terribly wrong.

"Lydia? It's me. Please let me…"

Lizzie trails off, unsure of what she wants Lydia to let her do. Come in? Help? Do something?

But what is there to be done? What help can she give?

Lizzie feels wretched. She is plagued with every kind of loathing — loathing of George, loathing of the situation, loathing of the Internet's insatiable desire to peer into peoples' private lives. Most of all, she loathes herself, for giving the Internet the means to examine her family's private life in the first place. Lizzie's guilt over everything she has said and presented on her videos has been building ever since Darcy showed up to confess his love — if Lizzie's honest with herself, it had probably started when Bing made his first unexpected appearance — and has come crashing down around her head. Because the fact remains that there was little likelihood of her baby sister becoming "YouTube Star Lydia Bennet" without Lizzie first opening the door to give the entire Internet a free show into their private lives.

"Lydia, I'm… here."

Sounds of more wracking sobs come from the room, and Lizzie's eyes slide shut. She leans her forehead against Lydia's door, trying to be as close as her sister will let her. Lizzie had thought her shame couldn't grow any more after going to Pemberley Digital and realizing just how terrible a person she was for castigating a man she barely knew on the Internet. How many times had Dr. Gardiner lectured them on the permanency of the online world? How many papers had she written about how that very immutability had forever changed the style and technique of communication? How monumentally stupid could she have been?

The videos were never supposed to grow this large. The audience was never supposed to be this massive. It was just supposed to be a lighthearted part of her thesis project. A fun footnote, really.

But now this fun footnote had morphed into something much darker, and the entire world was now aware of a forthcoming sex tape starring her baby sister, who was currently locked in her room, a door away — an entire world away — from Lizzie.

"Lydia, I'm here," she says again, hoping Lydia can hear her. "I'm here if you need me. I'm here."

* * *

"Jane, you need to come home."

Jane is curled into the corner of her office building's stairwell, the only place she can get enough quiet and reception to have a private conversation. She has just spent fifteen minutes listening to Lizzie's breathless tale of Lydia, George Wickham, a sex tape and a countdown clock, and she's feeling like she might be sick.

"Of course," Jane says, standing up and smoothing her dress down with one hand. "I'll come home tonight. I'll let Paula know right now."

"Good," Lizzie says, and there's real relief in her voice. "I'll tell Lydia."

"Thanks. I'll call you when I'm on my way."

"Great. Love you Jane."

"Love you too."

Jane takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she's sure will be an unpleasant conversation. Paula, her boss, hates any kind of disruption in the best of times, and mere days before Fashion Week could hardly be categorized as "best."

She exits the stairwell and steps back into the bustling workroom, where harried assistants carry fabric swaths back and forth and the undercurrent is one of barely contained chaos. Normally, Jane would jump straight in, reveling in solving problems and finding creative ways to arrange garments, but now is not that time. Now is the time for family. Family, above everything else, is the most important thing.

The door to Paula's office is open, but she is poring over sketches and doesn't notice when Jane approaches. Jane takes another deep breath before rapping on the door.

Paula's head jerks up. "Ah, Jane. Glad you're here. Can you take these to Abbie, and tell her that the second look is the one we'll be going after—"

"Actually, Paula," Jane says, interrupting. She never used to interrupt. She wonders sometimes if New Jane could be a polite way of saying "Rude Jane," but pushes that thought aside. "I have a private matter I need to discuss with you." Jane steps inside and closes the door to Paula's office.

"Is everything all right?" her boss asks, with what appears to be real concern.

"Not really," Jane says honestly. "There's been a family emergency, and I — I have to go back home. Tonight."

Paula's eyes widen dramatically. "You have to leave tonight? Is someone in the hospital?"

"Uh, no—"

"Did someone die?"

"No—"

"Then I'm afraid I fail to see what the family emergency is."

Jane has always appreciated Paula's no-nonsense approach to work and life, especially in Los Angeles, where the majority of the world's actors and producers and directors make their living by overdramatizing everything. However, Jane has never been less pleased to meet with Paula's forthrightness.

"My family needs me at home. That's really all I can say."

"And they need you immediately?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"I'm not sure."

"Jane," Paula says, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. "I like you, I really do. I think you have a great point of view and potential to do something in fashion. But you can't expect to work in this industry and take an indefinite leave of absence due to an unspecific family emergency just a few days before Fashion Week."

Tears spring up in Jane's eyes before she can stop them. "I understand that. But I have to go home."

"And I have a show to put on. There is a lot of work to do. I'll have to fill your spot immediately."

Paula pauses for just a beat, and Jane waits for the final blow.

"I'm sorry to do this, but there won't be a job waiting for you when you come back from your family emergency."

Defeated, Jane nods. "What do you need me to do?"

"Well, if I can't convince you to stay, I need you to clean out your work area and give your keys to HR.

"You can't," Jane says, low but strong. "I'm sorry, but you can't convince me to stay. My family needs me."

Paula puts her glasses back on and examines Jane. "I respect that, Jane. I just can't afford to lose any hands right now. I hope you know that."

"I do." Jane stands, fighting to not let unshed tears fall on her cheeks. "Thank you for everything, Paula. I've learned a lot since I've been down here."

"Don't mention it. Like I said, Jane, I think you could go places. Feel free to put me down as a reference."

This is more than Jane expected. She ducks her head, bringing her hand up to her eyebrow before she realizes it. This has always been her go-to move when she's processing information. She drops her hand to the side of her dress. "Thank you, Paula."

"Leave the door open," Paula says, already back to looking at sketches.

Jane steps back into the workroom and makes her way to her desk.

* * *

Once again, Gigi sits curled up in the chair next to William's desk. This time, her socks are dotted with pink whales. William has already wrinkled his nose at them, which Gigi chooses to ignore.

"You know," she says casually, reaching for a pen on his desk and twirling it between her fingers, "Caroline told me Bing has been thinking of going back down south soon."

Cautiously, Gigi tries to catch her brother's eye, but William doesn't look at her. He does, however, stop clacking away at his laptop.

"I think he's going to stay in Netherfield."

Still, William says nothing.

"I think he's going down there in a few days."

William apparently finds the floor vastly interesting.

Gigi takes a deep breath and throws caution to the wind. "I think you should go down there with him, find Lizzie, and tell her it was you who got the video taken down."

William's eyes snap up to hers. "No."

"Why _not_?" It wasn't as though Gigi hadn't been prepared for this, but his bullheadedness was so _frustrating _sometimes.

"We already talked about this. I'm not going to tell them. I don't want them to feel like they owe me anything."

"They do owe you."

"No, they don't!" William stands up, running his hand through his hair the way he does when he's really stressed. "They don't, Gigi. It was my fault George had the money to leave San Francisco and go manipulate and abuse another unsuspecting girl. It was my fault, and so the remedy had to be mine. That's it. They don't owe me anything —"

"But don't you think they're curious? Don't you think they'd want to know? And don't you think—" Gigi stands up now too, the force of her recent revelation hitting her. "Don't you wonder if they might think that whoever was responsible for taking the video down could put it back up again? Don't you think they'd want some reassurance that it won't ever appear online, that it won't be distributed somewhere else?"

This stops William short. Gigi can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"I'd want to know that. Anyone would." Gigi sees him reach the same conclusion, and she begins to smile. "And just to clear any doubt from their minds, you could simply tell them that it was you and that the video won't ever show up—"

"I can get someone from legal to craft a document," he says quietly, walking back to his desk to write himself a reminder about it. Gigi's smile turns into an immediate frown. This was _not_ what she had in mind.

"But William, don't you want them to know it's you? Don't you want Lizzie to know? Just think how grateful she would be, how grateful they all would be—"

"I don't want her to be grateful to me!" William bursts out, cutting Gigi off. "I don't want her to feel indebted to me. I don't want her to feel like she owes me anything, and I don't want her to feel like she has to repay the favor somehow. Dammit, Gigi, I don't want her to love me because she feels like she has to!"

Gigi stares at her brother, her mouth hanging open. William doesn't often render her speechless, but when he does, he does the job thoroughly. He glances quickly at her, color high in his cheeks. His chest is heaving as if he's been running hard, even though he hasn't moved more than a few feet.

She takes a deep breath, then another. Gigi has never heard her brother speak like that about anyone, has never heard him speak with such emotion. He avoids her eyes again and sits down in the desk chair, putting his head in his hands. She approaches him tentatively.

"So you don't want Lizzie to know about the video… but you do want her to love you."

William lets out a short breath and raises his head. His eyes meet Gigi's, and he looks totally, completely lost. "Yes. I do. I just never thought it could be possible, until—" He cuts off abruptly, looking down to the floor again. "Forget it. It's hopeless."

"No, it's not!" Gigi kneels down in front of him and takes both of his hands in hers. "It's not, William, I know it isn't. Things have changed between you. You have changed and so has she. It's not hopeless. I think you should go down to Fresno with Bing and tell her how you still feel. You don't have to tell her about the video."

He laughs, but there's no humor in the sound. "The last time I made a confession of love, it didn't turn out too well."

Gigi winces, remembering that awful conversation. "Things are different this time."

"I don't think so."

She's not sure if he's being purposefully obtuse or if he really is just that blind when it comes to Lizzie Bennet. She looks at him, considering. Perhaps it's a bit of both.

Poking him in the side, Gigi says, "Well then, you are willfully misunderstanding the situation."

"I don't think I am."

Gigi frowns at his obnoxious stubbornness before deciding to pull out her trump card.

"She would have said yes."

His brow furrows. "What?"

"When you asked her to go to the theater. She would have said yes if her phone hadn't rung. You know it."

"I don't know anything of the sort—"

"Yes, you _do_!" Gigi squeezes his hands again, trying to make him see, to understand. "She would have said yes. And I think you owe it to yourself — to both of you — to at least ask her again."

William pulls his hands out of hers and runs them both through his hair. He looks at Gigi sadly. "What if she says no? I don't think I could take it if she said no."

"I don't think she will."

"But what if she does?"

"Then she's not the person we thought she was. But I think she is, and I think you think she is too. And if not, well…" Gigi trails off, looking at her big brother with a wisdom she didn't have a year ago. "Then we'll get through it together."

William reaches out and takes her hand. He nods. "Together."

Gigi sits back on her heels. "We can get through anything together. We'll be okay. Okay?"

William gives her a small, closed-lip smile. "Okay."

* * *

**Thanks again for reading! **


	4. Part IV

**Hello you lovely readers! I'm back again with a haphazard mix of conversations. These take place post-episode 93, 94 and 97. I'm also working on a longer piece about the interim between 96 and 97, so be on the lookout for that later this week. **

**Until then: the conversations!**

* * *

**March**

"Charlotte, what the hell."

Lizzie stands up, glancing at her camera to make sure it's definitely turned off, before rounding on her best friend. Charlotte has been back in town for a grand total of five minutes and she's already making trouble.

"I want to reshoot that."

Charlotte tosses her bangs to the side with a flip of her head and shoots Lizzie a look reserved for when she's being especially irritating.

"Give me one good reason why we should refilm."

"Because I told you I didn't want to talk about Darcy." Lizzie understands why Charlotte is pushing her on this, but the truth of the matter is she would really rather not think about it.

"You may not want to talk about him, but your viewers want the exact opposite." Charlotte's already going to the camera to check the image. Lizzie snaps the viewfinder shut.

"The viewers will watch whether I talk about Darcy or not."

Charlotte sighs frustratedly. "You know, Lizzie, for someone who's spent the better part of a year talking to the Internet about her life, you are _really _bad at expressing your feelings."

Lizzie's stung. "That is not true."

"Oh yes it is. We haven't heard real honesty from you about your feelings since you read Darcy's letter."

Lizzie opens and shuts her mouth, trying to think of a good defense. Somehow she thinks the truth — that she had never expected the audience to grow this large; that it makes her uncomfortable to talk about her true feelings in front of thousands of people, especially and particularly when she's still trying to work out what her true feelings are herself — won't go over too well with Charlotte. Instead, she tries a different tack.

"There have been other things to think about."

"Like Lydia, and Jane, and Gigi?" Charlotte lists off. "That's all well and good, but this whole project is called the _Lizzie Bennet Diaries._ You need to talk about _you_, and how _you _feel."

Lizzie fiddles with the hem of her shirt. "I don't know what to feel," she says quietly, honestly. "I'm very… confused."

Charlotte wraps an arm around Lizzie's shoulder. "It's OK to be confused. Just let the viewers see a little bit of it."

"It's not about them."

"Honestly, Lizzie," says Charlotte, shaking her head. "After an entire year, don't you think you owe them at least that much?"

"I don't care what they want! This project wasn't supposed to be about them. This project was supposed to be about me."

"Exactly. The project _is_ about you. This whole year-long project has been about you, and your life. And like it or not, William Darcy has played a part in that."

Darcy's name feels like a punch in the gut. Lizzie closes her eyes. "Well, he doesn't play a part anymore."

Charlotte lets out a huff. "You can't just ignore everything from the past year."

"I know that," Lizzie says. "But it's different now. It's hard. It's just… hard. And it didn't use to be, but it is now, and I just… I just don't want to deal with it on camera."

Charlotte's eyes show sympathy, but her hand on Lizzie's shoulder is bracing.

"Every story has to have some kind of resolution. Jane and Bing have gotten theirs. Now it's time for yours."

Lizzie looks to the ground for a moment before revealing something she never thought she would say to another person, not even Jane or her since-fetuses bestie.

"I don't think I'll ever see him again." She looks up at Charlotte, tears stinging in her eyes. "I don't want to talk about him, because I'll never see him again, and that scares me. And sitting around blabbing on and on about him on my video blog is just sad. It makes me look stupid and I don't want to do it."

Charlotte gently squeezes her shoulder, and Lizzie feels very, very lost.

* * *

"William, she knows."

Gigi approaches his desk with something that could be mild contrition crossing her face, but the barely repressed glee beneath it tempers the repentance somewhat. William frowns.

"Yes, I saw," he says shortly, indicating with his outstretched hand that Gigi should sit in the chair next to his desk. She does just that, her mouth working to keep an appropriately solemn expression. But Gigi is as terrible at hiding her feelings as William is at expressing them, and her endeavors to appear remorseful are failing woefully.

"How, precisely, does she know?" he asks, trying to look Gigi in the eye. She studies the ground instead.

"Well I assume she just checked the website and saw that it was down?" she says to the threaded Berber carpet.

"Gigi."

"Well, I may have gotten in touch with her cousin Mary through Twitter and then Lydia and I may have started talking and I may have told her it was you who bought the company and tracked down George and made sure the tape wouldn't ever be shown or distributed." Gigi says all this very quickly and has to pause for breath at the end of the sentence. William frowns once more.

"Why did you do that?" he asks. He had specifically asked her not to. After everything, he didn't want the Bennets to feel any sort of obligation to him. His rebuke of Lizzie's younger sister all those months ago had clearly played straight into the girl's insecurities — something that had driven a wedge between her and Lizzie helped drive Lydia right into George's arms. William hoped that his work to take down the company and the video could help make some sort of amends.

Gigi shoots him an entreating look. "William, she deserved to know. They both did. Lydia and Lizzie. They deserved to know, just like you deserve to be happy."

William wishes he could explain it in an adequate way. He wishes he could express how he didn't do it for himself, how he had done it in an attempt to ease Lizzie's pain, to ease the pain of all the Bennets. He simply shakes his head and says, "I… didn't do this for me."

"_I know_. But you do deserve to be happy."

"Seeing them settled is happiness enough."

"But they're not settled! Lizzie still needs a job —"

"I will help her where I can— "

"Like by offering her a partnership at Pemberley Digital?"

Darcy's breath catches in his throat. "What?"

"You said it yourself," Gigi says. "Pemberley Digital is in the business of telling stories and she's a natural storyteller. It only fits."

"Who knows if she would even come here," he says quietly, ignoring the true point, the excitement at the possibility clanging in his heart.

"You never know until you ask," Gigi says.

"Which I will _not _be doing," he says firmly. Gigi starts to protest, but he holds up a hand. "Sorry, Gigi. I've got work to do."

* * *

Charlotte's in the middle of pulling out her wallet as she opens the door.

"So what do I owe you?" she says, before she can fully see who is standing on the front step.

"Nothing," says William Darcy.

Charlotte tilts her head back, mouth open, and stares for a moment.

_Well, this is unexpected.  
_  
Charlotte tries to speak, then closes her mouth because she can't think of anything to say. Darcy is here. Darcy is here, at Lizzie's house, on Lizzie's birthday. Darcy, who is wearing a waistcoat and tie.

Darcy, who boarded a plane to Fresno instead of calling Lizzie back.

Charlotte will never understand this man. But she's pretty sure her best friend is in love with him, and judging by the look on Darcy's face, she's pretty sure he's still in love with Lizzie, and suddenly all of Charlotte's mental capacity is focused on getting at least _some _of this on camera.

"Um, Charlotte, is —"

"Lizzie's right through here," she says, holding the door out wider and stepping aside. Since Charlotte basically grew up in this house, she feels no qualms inviting Darcy inside. Just as he's stepping in from the porch, Lydia bounds down the stairs. She lurches to a halt on the bottom step, her eyes growing wide.

"Oh em gee," she says slowly. "You're here."

"Yes," he says, stilted and uncomfortable.

Together, without even discussing it, Lydia and Charlotte step forward and grab Darcy by the arms, shoving him in front of the door to the den. There's a small scuffle, given that Darcy is caught off guard, but Charlotte and Lydia are surprisingly strong for such small people. And then it doesn't matter because Lizzie is asking if Charlotte needs money for a tip and Darcy is saying, "excuse me, Lizzie" and Charlotte is thinking that she couldn't have planned this interaction better if she had scripted it herself.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


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